


Communications Down

by iLock



Category: Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lack of Communication, M/M, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iLock/pseuds/iLock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve comes home to a Tony who has sworn up and down he's been sober for months. </p><p>So why is he drunk?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communications Down

**Author's Note:**

> Not fantabulously proud of this one.

Steve was having one of those days. 

Those days. 

The kind when the very idea of doing anything is exhausting. The kind when all anyone wants to do is call in sick to work and sleep for about a year. 

Steve had gotten up and gone to SHIELD anyway. Tony had teased him for it at first, then realized that Steve was not even remotely in the mood for banter. He had then offered to tell Fury that his personal super-soldier was not available due to a record-setting sex marathon. 

Steve declined. 

Tony hmph-ed and went back to sleep. 

Once he had arrived at SHIELD's NYC headquarters, Fury had basically shoved him at junior agents with a gruff, "Endurance training."

Critiquing agents' pull-up technique was the last thing on Earth he wanted to do, but Steve grit his teeth and dutifully lectured each rotation of agents. 

Several people asked him if he was okay. Apparently he wasn't hiding his world-weariness well enough. 

Steve got himself through by imagining his return to the Tower. Gently nudging Tony out of his lab, soft kisses on the elevator ride up to their room, dragging Tony's grease-mottled shirt off him and tossing him onto their mattress, pinning him by the wrists- 

Ahem. Best not to go there while surrounded by people trained to be observant. 

The hours dragged on as Steve got more and more tired and irritated with life in general and finally, finally Fury told him to go home. 

***

Slumping against the walls of Tony's private elevator was a familiar relief after six months of living in the Tower. Steve could predict every whirr of the gears and magnets, having heard them all hundreds upon hundreds of times before, but today he chose to simply mumble into the faux rosewood lining, "Straight to Tony's floor, please, J'rvis." 

Most days he stopped by the communal floor and spoke at least briefly with his housemates, but today he just wanted to fall into bed and sleep for another seventy years at least--

He stopped dead in the doorway of the bedroom. 

Tony was sprawled out at the foot of their bed, shoulders propped up against the bedframe, legs fanning out carelessly. 

Bottles scattered around him. 

Steve blinked, eyes performing another sweep. There were bottles, but no glass. So Tony had been drinking straight from the bottles. Not only drinking, but drinking with the sole intent to get drunk. 

This wasn't a Danger Period, as the Avengers had nicknamed the times when Tony was more susceptible to the lure of alcohol. Danger Periods included the days before, of, and after traumatic anniversaries such as Tony's kidnapping in Afghanistan and the death of his parents; times when a teammate was injured and Tony felt responsible; whenever medical issues arose with the arc reactor; and occasions when the coffee machine broke. 

Steve ran through a mental list. No past trauma associated with today's date, no battles lately meant no injuries, the arc was fine, and Tony had repaired the coffee maker not two days ago, and it never re role this quickly. 

Any other day, Steve would have noticed the tear stains on Tony's shirt and face. 

Any other day, Steve would have registered the hunched shoulders and haunted aura. 

Any other day, Steve would have been well-rested and calm and rational. 

Today, Steve folded his arms and snapped, "What the hell, Tony?"

The genius' head flew up at the unexpected address, and his miserable expression quickly shuttered and turned defensive. "What?"

Steve gestured to the chaos. "Care to explain?" he asked coldly. 

Tony blinked once, twice. Looked around him. Looked back at Steve, and set his jaw. "Dunno."

"Really," Steve bit out. 

"Jus' felt like it, I guess," Tony responded loftily. 

Steve was angry, so angry he was gripping the doorway until it creaked. He'd thought Tony was better than this- "You just threw away seven months of sobriety because you 'felt like it'?" Tony flinched and opened his mouth guiltily, but Steve held up a hand. "No. Stop. You were doing well. I thought you'd actually matured, gotten beyond the boy who gave lectures while drunk and made an idiot of himself at charity events. Clearly, there was a miscommunication somewhere." Okay, that was probably below the belt, he needed to get himself out of control. "I can't deal with this right now." He spun on one heel and slammed the door as satisfyingly loudly as he could. 

"JARVIS, take me to the underground garage," he spat, furious energy rushing through his veins. 

"Captain, I believe you are drawing conclusions a little too hastily-"

"J. Please." Steve leaned his head against the wall and clenched his fists. "I know you're obliged to defend him, but just let me go."

He descended in silence. 

Mounting his bike and riding away from the Tower was a relief, a weight off his shoulders and chest. He had several hours before dark and wanted to get as far as possible from the source of his fury before he had to come home. 

So Captain America sometimes ran away. Shit happens. 

When he felt he had sufficiently fled, Steve just let his bike slow to a stop and pulled over onto the side of the road. 

His legs felt heavy and the lethargy of this morning was warring with the still-fresh anger, but he ignored both as he wandered into the woods he'd ended up in and plopped down on the bank of a stream, dropping his head into his hands. 

***

Steve made his way into the kitchen, the midnight air cool around him. The room was already occupied by an unwelcome face-- though technically, Steve had no right to determine Tony as unwelcome in his own house. 

"Hey," he said, and left it at that. 

Stark didn't reply, so Steve sighed slightly in relief, got a water bottle, and beat a hasty retreat. 

He'd barely known Tony then. 

***

Steve dragged himself out of the elevator, having chosen the proverbial short straw and saddled with the job of bringing Stark dinner. Miss Potts never let them forget it if the Avengers let him go for more than 48 hours without eating. 

He stopped dead in the doorway of the workshop.

Everything was in full swing, blue holograms blanketing Tony, protecting him from the world outside and locking him into his globe of intelligence. Steve watched, dumbfounded, as the genius skipped from one project to another, adjusting and creating and living, completely different from the harsh Stark they all did their utmost to avoid. 

***

He's started trying after that. Really. Trying to see what would bring out that side of Tony. 

***

"What do you think of the champagne?"

Steve shook his head. "I assume it's an acquired taste."

Tony chuckled. "Yes. I should have realized you wouldn't have had it before."

Unsure, he held out his glass. "You want mine?"

"Oh no. I'm off the booze."

Steve blinked, utterly taken aback. "Since when?"

"About a month before the Battle."

***

Steve rubbed his hands into his eye sockets. Seven months. He'd thought Tony was trying...

In retrospect, his reaction had been too much. But still. After seven months of resolutely not touching a drop of alcohol, Tony fell off the wagon because he "just felt like it?"

Buzz

Fabulous. Was that Tony, calling to make his excuses?

Steve checked the ID. Bruce Banner. 

This should be interesting. 

"Hello?"

"Steve. Hey." The scientist sounded a little sad, and more than a little defensive. "We didn't know you'd gotten home until JARVIS mentioned it. This wasn't random, okay?"

"What could it possibly have been?"

A sigh. "Tony got a call a few hours ago. Rhodey's injured. Badly. Maybe fatally."

The world stopped spinning for a moment. Steve spluttered, stood, and made for his bike. "Well, why didn't Tony say something?!"

"Why are you questioning Tony Stark acting irrationally? But Steve, was it really so bad you felt you had to break up with him?"

"What?" Steve racked his brains. "I didn't!"

"Seems to him like you did."

"Put him on the-"

"You are not doing this over the phone."

"Okay. See you when I get home."

Steve shoved his phone in his pocket and slammed up his kickstand. 

He needed to fix this.


End file.
